


A Study in Beard

by Loveismyrevolution



Series: Hairy Situations at 221B [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Beards, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Sherlock Holmes and Experiments, The Perks Of Running Out Of Shaving Foam, being quarantined together, how to entertain your Consulting Detective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23514751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loveismyrevolution/pseuds/Loveismyrevolution
Summary: Sherlock has to face the consequences of using up all of their shaving foam. Which turns out to be more fun than expected. Boys being boys, nothing can go without a challenge. Although, being isolated presents a problem. How will they determine the winner?
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Hairy Situations at 221B [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1691965
Comments: 32
Kudos: 90
Collections: Isolated Johnlock Collection





	A Study in Beard

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inevitable considering the recent very inspiring facial-hair-content. And OF COURSE it had to be connected to my other "hairy" fic. So the series was born. This is part 2 but can also be read as a standalone. Although it's more fun to know the previour events...
> 
> Stay safe everyone and I hope this fic brings at least a moment of joy!! Have fun!!

The longer it took, the more weeks went by without an end to the London lockdown in sight, the more one Consulting Detective got bored. 

In the beginning he was still allowed out on cases, as this was considered vital to society. There was a shift to be seen within the homicide division though. A lot more domestic violence and murders, which Sherlock categorised as unworthy of his time - as if he was that occupied these days, John thought. In counterbalance there were much less - from Sherlock's point of view at least - interesting cases. John was glad though, that it kept him at least a bit busy and distracted and got him out of the house and out of John's hair - quite literally. With the increasing numbers of insecure patients, work got crazy at the GP practice. John had to take over shifts more frequently, plus those shifts got longer and more exhausting. That's why he wasn't always able to accompany Sherlock in The Work. Actually though, this wasn't unwelcome in times when they almost spent every waking - and not waking for that matter - hour together. It was good to have at least some moments to himself.

It worked out well for a while until one day Greg called.

"John, I'm sorry mate, but…," Greg sighed. One of those deep exasperated sighs of frustration. "I can't do this any longer. I can't save his ass on all occasions. Does he really think he's above all that?? Jesus, he's not God, for fucks sake."

John groaned. This sounded bad. Worse than usual even.

"What has he done this time, Greg?"

"You know how he can get, John." Greg said and John just gave an understanding grunt. "He… he kept sniffing the corpses, John, and… and…," Greg shrieked, and he sounded as horrified as John had ever heard him. "John, he licked them. He _licked_ the evidence!!!"

"Oh God," John growled and rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, Greg. Honestly. I'm truly sorry."

"Not your fault. Although… he's worse when you're not around." It did sound a tiny bit accusing though.

"He's banned from crime scenes. For the time being until _I_ ," the emphasis on the 'I' was as explicit as if painted bright red, "say otherwise. I don't care if he comes crawling and begging on his knees, John. No! Just no!"

He had expected it at some point. It had all been too good to be true. He ended the call with Greg and waited for the return of his most probably disgruntled partner.

Not much later a fuming Sherlock threw open the door of 221b and glared daggers at John as if he was the cause of all the misery.

"They wanted me to wear a mask, John. And a gown! A _gown_ , John!!" 

"I know, love."

"That is ridiculous! How would that even fit?"

"You _are_ aware that you are supposed to take your Belstaff off first, right?"

Sherlock huffed as if that was one impossible thing to ask of him. He discarded the item in question and his scarf and shoes and padded sock-feeted into the living room.

" _And_ a cap, John!"

"Yes. And?" John looked expectant at him.

"My hair!!" Sherlock exclaimed in horror.

"Your… hair." John couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Sherlock… you're never ever again, for the entirety of time and longer, allowed to complain about _your hair_!" 

Sherlock scowled but had nothing to counter. 

"I'll hear that till the end of my days, won't I?" 

"Yes." John deadpanned without offering anything else.

"And gloves." Sherlock tried, as if this would be the compelling all changing argument.

"Yes, Sherlock. I _know._ " John sighed. "That's the required and obligatory protection gear during a fucking pandemic! Most of all in cases of unknown cause of death. And _everyone_ has to wear it."

"They told me I'd have to keep a 5ft distance if I don't abide by their rules." he still sounded aghast.

"Yes." John felt like talking to an infant. Which maybe wasn't that far fetched.

"How am I supposed to gather evidence from the victims that way?" Sherlock got more and more agitated.

"Certainly not by licking them." John looked daringly at Sherlock. 

Sherlock all but inflated and threw himself dramatically on the sofa.

"Gavin is a spoilsport." he pouted.

John couldn't help but laugh and went over to Sherlock to ruffle the thankfully almost totally grown back curls of his beloved. 

From that day on John started to feel like a childminder. He called in sick to keep Sherlock entertained. 

John watched Sherlock's experiment equipment with hawk eyes, which annoyed Sherlock beyond all measure. That's why John had to come up with the most absurd ideas to distract and to please him, after the standards like movie nights or board games had lost their appeal. Sherlock loved playing Twister though, if only to laugh at John's disadvantage of short limbs. Sometimes the inevitable tangling and collapsing resulted in other very pleasant activities, but even that wasn't an all day and every day option.

With an apparently omnipotent not-yet-brother-in-law John was able to transform the upstairs room into a Sherlock playground; complete with sound proof shooting wall; boxing ball plus equipment; close to reality victim doll to strangle, beat, shoot and whatever the heart desired; and a spare fridge with home delivered body parts to be sectioned on a small sized autopsy table including instruments. Sherlock was happy as a child at Christmas and entertained the idea to cause a continuous pandemic if this was the result of it. John told him off but Sherlock only grinned, donned his goggles and continued to torture a kidney.

*****

That was why John hadn't expected the sheepish look on Sherlock's face when, one morning in the bathroom, he asked him to hand over the shaving foam. 

“What?” John asked, annoyed the moment he saw that look.

“There’s none.”

“But you just shaved, didn’t you?” John was not in the mood for nonsensical discussions before coffee.

“It happened to be the last remaining bit I used.”

“Alright…,” John stretched. “Then be a dear and fetch me some from the cupboard, will you?” 

“There might be none either.” Sherlock looked smaller and smaller by the minute.

“And how is that?” John now stopped in his ministrations to comb back his hair, which was luckily back to straight, recovered from Sherlock's frizz inducing prank. He glared suspiciously at Sherlock, who only shrugged.

“Did you, by any chance, use it for non-shaving purposes?” John growled.

“Might.” Sherlock had at least the decency to look slightly guilty.

“ _Goddamnit, Sherlock!!!_ ”John exploded. “We agreed on _no experiments_!!” He glared at Sherlock. “Really, you won’t like the punishment if I’d ever have to look at you foozled like the last time again.”

“Foozled?” Sherlock asked confused, the - John had to admit - adorable crinkle appearing on the back of his nose. 

“Yes, foozled.” John only barely succeeded in staying serious. “No. Experiments.”

“It wasn’t exactly an experiment though,” Sherlock fidgeted. “No pipettes, no beakers, no bunsen burner acquired, John.” Sherlock sounded like trying to convince his granny that he wasn’t the one who had nicked the cookie. “Not even a microscope!” He looked triumphant.

“Then what?” John asked, puzzled. It was true, John hadn’t seen the chemist in action since that memorable Bad Hair Day. 

“I wondered how effective the hair softening ingredients of shaving foam are when applied on other tissue and so I had to inject it into the bronchi of the lungs Molly had provided to recreate the effect on the alveoli in case of inhaled shaving foam.” Sherlock offered, very pleased with himself.

John just stared at him. Sherlock looked back.

“Yes. Because that is a highly likely occurrence.” John was close to losing it.

“Who knows.” Sherlock snapped.

“Right.” John cleared his throat. “Then I’ll just wait until you get back from the shops.”

“ _I_ won’t go to the shops!” Sherlock exclaimed horrified.

“Yes, you will. Your fault, you get us new shaving foam.” John nodded.

“I’ll just call Mycroft.” 

“No, you won’t.” John crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Why not?” Sherlock asked petulantly.

“Because _you_ used all of the cans. So, _you_ have to get new ones.”

“That’s childish, John.” Sherlock pouted.

“You know what is childish, Sherlock? Using up all our shaving foam to marinade human lungs with it!” 

“I had no intention to eat them, John.” Sherlock huffed. John had to actually chuckle at that.

“Okay, genius. Here’s the deal. No shaving foam until you go to the shops - in person, no underground network or bribing Mycroft’s minions.” John said, calm and determined.

“You won’t be able to shave.” Sherlock answered as if that was reason enough for John to give in.

“Right you are.”

“You don’t like not shaving.” Sherlock tried.

“And there you are wrong, sweetheart.” John said, grinning. Sherlock winced at the endearment. 

“But you never go a day without shaving.”

“True that.” John nodded.

“You _never_ have or had a beard.” Sherlock looked puzzled.

“You didn’t know me in my army days, did you?” John countered. 

Sherlock only stared at him. Swallowed. A faint blush creeping up his cheeks.

“But facial hair isn’t tolerated in the army.” Sherlock argued.

“It is, under the right circumstances.” John revelled in Sherlock’s perplexity.

“And what 'special circumstances' could that be?” Sherlock asked.

“Undercover mission.”

“Undercover…,” Sherlock squeaked, swallowed, cleared his throat. “You’ve been on an undercover mission?”

“Yep.” John popped the ‘p’ on purpose. “Been to Kabul. To investigate the media coverage of the events. The picture they were painting for the people at home. We had hints that there was a leak, providing misinformation, to blackguard our mission.” John was extremely pleased to have caught Sherlock by surprise and have his full attention now. “Went by the name of Iain back then and I was pretty proud about pulling off a fairly decent Scottish accent. And the beard, well…,” he grinned widely and saw Sherlock blush even more, “... I must say the effect it had on others was quite… uhm… satisfying.” He deepened his voice with the last word and slowly approached Sherlock. Who seemed to have some difficulties breathing. 

“Then why…,” the detective breathed.

“ _I prefer my doctors clean-shaven,_ remember?” John quirked an eyebrow.

“That referred to…,” Sherlock said under his breath and only waved his finger in front of his upper lip.

“You should have been more careful and more precise in your announcement, then.” John smirked, immensely enjoying the direction the events were taking. He ran a finger over the smooth skin of Sherlock’s jaw. “If I’m not mistaken then _you_ are the one shaving twice a day because you can’t stand the itch of stubble and the feeling of your chin catching on your scarf. Mister Sensitive-skin-all-labels-must-be-removed-or-I-wear-my-shirts-inside-out.”

“I’m not! And that’s not why.” Sherlock tried to save a last bit of his dignity.

“No? Alright then. Then we won’t need any shaving foam after all. Great. Okay with me.” John nodded, turned and left a dumbfounded Sherlock behind in the bathroom.

"But we'll both grow a beard!" Sherlock called after him, scandalised. 

"Those are the natural consequences, love." John confirmed, very pleased with himself.

As was to be expected Sherlock didn’t give in and tried to appear as unaffected by John’s reaction as possible. When the day went by and Sherlock not so much as mentioned the events in the morning again, John lowered the newspaper he was reading and turned to Sherlock who was sulking on the sofa.

“You know, we can turn it into a competition.” He said.

John could see that Sherlock tried to withstand the temptation but in the end he turned over and looked at John anyway. John smirked. He had known Sherlock wouldn’t be able to resist a challenge.

“How?” Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

“Make it sort of a race. Whose beard grows faster. You could even make a spreadsheet and all." John offered.

Sherlock seemed to turn it over in his head, threw a glance at John, gnawed his lower lip.

“Okay.” He agreed after a moment of hesitation.

“Great.” John said with a big smile on his face. “And for the correctness, we take photo evidence just so you can’t twist the facts to your own liking, mister!”

“What?” Sherlock screamed in horror.

“Starting now.” John laughed, pulling out his phone. “You already agreed, no way back.” He had way too much fun with this. Served his nutter of a boyfriend right. 

“One pic each day of each of us. Holding up a sign showing the day within the competition.” 

Sherlock stilled, stared in shock. 

“Come on, genius. This _must_ be to your liking. It’s a proper study in beard.” John chuckled.

*****

And so it started. Sherlock didn’t want to show weakness and went along. He seemed a bit more restrained than usual, but then it was a heretofore unseen situation between them. 

Sherlock did get quite eager to spend more time in bed though. John did not object, happy to prove the previously mentioned effect of the famous Watson-beard… or rather MacKelpie-beard that is. When he saw Sherlock shifting on the kitchen chairs, yelping when he got in the tub to take a bath and smearing extra-skin-soothing creme not only on his face, he was very happy to have come up with the punishment following the misuse of shaving foam. Not that he himself enjoyed it any less, but Sherlock was much more self-conscious about his stubble. 

One morning after a - in more than one way - rough night, John woke to being bathed in sunlight. He relished the moment of warmth and contentment until he felt the octopus holding him captive stir. He wiggled and turned in his arms to watch the love of his life wake. One of his favourite things.

This morning though, the sun beams trailing over the visible parts of Sherlock's face, he started to giggle. 

"What?" came a grumpy rumble from between the sheets.

"Your beard," John couldn't stop giggling.

"What's with it?" Sherlock's head emerged from under the covers, curls tousled and cheeks painted with creases.

John laughed. His heart spilled over with love for this ridiculous man.

"Now I know why you never let it grow." he said fondly. "It's ginger."

Sherlock looked embarrassed and tried to turn away, but John caught his face in his hands. He brushed his nose over the by now smoother hair and pressed a firm kiss on Sherlock's pouting lips. 

"I love it." he said. Kissed him again to emphasise his words. "I love it! And it's only for me. My very own gingerlock." he hummed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sherlock frowned.

"Oh, nothing, love. Forget it." John felt his own cheeks redden a bit and hurried to crawl out of bed and get under the shower.

******

So they continued day after day, taking photo evidence. 

Their beards though seemed to grow at the same rate. They squabbled about it. Sherlock tried to argue that his progress was much more visible. John vetoed that it was only related to his darker hair colour and couldn't be taken into account. 

One day John caught Sherlock in the bathroom, growling "Grow better!" at his own reflection. He just shook his head fondly and pretended that nothing had happened. Once Sherlock suggested measuring the length of the hairs and calculating an average to determine the winner of the competition. It turned out that John was extremely ticklish and it ended with a frustrated Sherlock, who secretly adored his bearded John in a giggle fit.

"We have to think of something else." John said after a while, still holding his belly and trying to regain composure.

"I wouldn't know what." Sherlock shrugged. Not that he actually wanted this experiment to end.

"We need an outside opinion. Maybe Mrs Hudson…," John mused.

"Don't know about her ability to judge facial hair growth beyond her own." Sherlock's winked, his eyes glinted with glee. John loved to see him this uninhibited. "And anyway, John. A single set of data isn't in any way scientific enough to call it a proper result."

"We could…," John started, the corner of his mouth twitching mischievously.

"No, John. Nope! Definitely not!" Sherlock shouted. "I'm not including Mycroft or Lestrade in this. I won't hear the end of it!!" Sherlock cringed at the thought alone.

"Okay. Calm down, drama queen. I'll think of something!" John laughed and engulfed his fuzzy and ruffled boyfriend in a tight embrace. 

*****

When the next morning a completely agitated and bewildered Sherlock stormed into the kitchen, John had to do his utmost best to keep his facial expression under control. 

"John." Sherlock cried. " _John._ "

"Right here. No need to torture my eardrums."

"Why are people threatening to eat me alive?" Sherlock asked, absolutely at a loss. "They even claim that I've murdered them, multiple times even, which is ridiculous considering they themselves are stating it." 

John wasn't able to hold it back any longer. He snorted, almost choked on his tea.

"This is not funny, John. Complete strangers with ridiculous names like Big-D-Watson or Johnlock4evA or ShagCockHolmes… what is that even supposed to mean… they're offering… _on my blog_!" Sherlock looked at John, totally nonplussed. "John, just imagine, they're completely mad… they're offering to sell the soul of their unborn children. Do they really believe in Lucifer and his likenesses? Are they trying to lure us in some sort of cult? But why?" 

John doubled over from laughter, tears running down his cheeks. Sherlock glared at him as if he feared that John had gone crazy as well.

"John, I really don't know what there's to laugh about. It must be the quarantine, people have lost their minds. They would do that… I quote… for us to give it to them, we both, together. They don't mention what though. Give them what, John? They do not make sense." 

By now John was honestly afraid to suffocate as his breath only came in hitching hiccups. His belly hurting from unrestrained laughter. 

"And that's not all…," Sherlock carried on, horrified beyond measure. "They want us to set their beds on fire. Why would we do that, John?"

John bawled and hiccuped and tried to breathe and wiped the tears from his cheeks which already started to cramp from the non-stop laughter. And all the while Sherlock stood motionless and wondered if he had woken in a parallel universe.

"What's all that about, John?" Sherlock asked a bit reserved, when John had slowly calmed down. 

"Sorry, love. I'm sorry. Maybe I should have warned you." Some last giggles escaped his lips. He straightened and looked apologetically at Sherlock. 

"That might be my fault." he said after a deep breath in and out. "Come on you," he held his hand out to Sherlock who took it hesitantly. "I have to show you something."

They snuggled in bed together, as John thought that might be most comfortable, and John opened his laptop.

"I was just thinking scientifically, I promise!" he said, still not totally free from amusement. "Didn't expect it would turn into this."

"John Hamish Watson," Sherlock pushed himself up and away from John to be able to look him in the eye, "what have you done?"

"Oh, come here, you!" John pulled him back into his arms. "Don't be like that." 

When they had settled back into their tangle of arms and legs and hands and hearts, John explained, "I might have started a poll."

"Awhatawhereawhy?" Sherlock's gaze flickered between John's face and the laptop screen. 

"Get more 'sets of data' as you'd call it. More opinions of people is how I think of it."

Sherlock huffed.

"You put an ask with different options on Twitter for people to choose from. That way you can gather people's opinions without knowing them personally." In the meanwhile he logged into his Twitter account which he hadn't checked since last night.

"I grant you, it's not flawlessly scientific but better than all the other options we came up with to get a result for our competition. So, I was curious what people out there would think." 

Sherlock still didn't say anything, but John could feel him tense up in his arms.

"Ha!" John barked out a laugh when he pulled up his tweet. "Still a draw!" 

  
  


Sherlock looked at the screen and blinked. And blinked. And kept blinking. 

After a while John began to worry and nudged him slightly.

"Hey… you okay?" He asked amused, but also concerned that Sherlock might be seriously angry or hurt by it. John swallowed. It was only meant as a joke though.

Sherlock cleared his throat.

"This…," his voice sounded a bit off. "This was on the internet? For everyone to see?"

"Oh, love." John felt his stomach drop. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. If I'd know that you…"

"Hearts and all?" Sherlock asked, whispered.

"Uhm… yes. Exactly as it is on the screen." John shifted uneasily. "Sorry, if I hurt you Sherlock, I really…" but he didn't get any further because he suddenly had an arm full of Consulting Detective. 

"You'd show the world pictures of us. With red and hearts and…," came the mumbled rumble from somewhere underneath the arms circling his shoulders. "Why would you do that?" 

"Did I embarrass you? I didn't want to embarrass you, Sherlock! I wanted to show off my pretty boyfriend and let them know I love you and…" 

He was muted by a fierce kiss landing on his lips and after that they didn't say much coherent things for quite a while. 

Much later, when breath was back, sheets were rumpled and the two men were happily holding each other, the initial cause for the latest encounter regained their interest. Sherlock reached over to pick up the laptop again.

"Puppy-eyed Redbeard? Really, John?" Sherlock raised one eyebrow.

"Sorry," John chuckled. "I couldn't resist." 

Sherlock poked him in his side which made John only giggle some more.

"And Sexy Silverfox…," Sherlock cherished every syllable. "No bias at all there, huh?" he grinned and threw John a glance out of the corner of his eye. 

"I'm afraid in that case your results aren't scientifically viable, John." Sherlock smartarsed.

"Pity." John nuzzled Sherlock's curls and smiled.

"The difference between the two achieved results isn't significant anyway, so I guess your attempt to scientifically identify a winner of this contest failed."

"Ah damn." John brushed his fingers up and down Sherlock's bearded chin. Sherlock leaned into the touch and hummed.

"I think though, we still have a winner." John purred into Sherlock's ear. 

"And who'd that be?" Sherlock mumbled, wholly absorbed in John's caresses.

"The beard." John huffed. "The beard itself, Sherlock. Don't you think it won us both over?" 

*****

Since that day shaving foam was a rarely to be seen guest in 221b Baker Street.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> As always the biggest thanks and hugs and cuddles and so on for my two amazing betas [@shylockgnomes](https://shylockgnomes.tumblr.com/) on tumblr/ [littleweedwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleweedwrites/pseuds/littleweedwrites) on ao3 and [@jobooksncoffee](https://jobooksncoffee.tumblr.com/) on tumblr/ [Jobooksandcoffee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jobooksandcoffee/pseuds/Jobooksandcoffee) on ao3!!! Check out their works and visit them on tumblr... they are the most incredible persons! I love them to bits! 
> 
> I'm [@loveismyrevolution](https://loveismyrevolution.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, too. Come talk to me, if you like!


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